


Protecting You

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arguing, Eventual Romance, F/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: “I’m sorry, okay? Jesus Christ, kid. We just wanted to help.”Your glare fades a bit because you have a huge crush on him and are not immune to the way his entire face softens when he’s worried. You sigh. “I appreciate the help and the concern. I just wish you could trust me to get this kind of easy shit taken care of.”OR:The reader and Dean get in an argument after he and Sam show up to "help" her on a solo hunt.





	Protecting You

“You’re an asshole.”

“Kid–”

“I swear, Dean, don’t even look at me right now.” You hiss at him, his profile only slightly visible in the dim light of your hotel room.

He’s in his fed suit, jacket stripped off and sleeves rolled up, and you kind of hate him for the days-old stubble he’s sporting.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” He tells you, rubbing his jaw in that way he does sometimes when he’s thinking.

“Bullshit!” You exclaim, “I told you the last time we talked that I was taking this case and suddenly you and Sam show up to ‘help out’?” You say the last part with air quotes.

You’ve known the Winchesters for about three years, now. You met them when the world was going to shit, and realized they were good people to have around in a pinch. They had a bad habit, though, and it was constantly showing up to help out uninvited.

Honestly, its not like it’s bad to have company, but your self esteem was starting to suffer a little bit.

“I didn’t want you to be in over your head.” Dean says, and you want to punch him.

“It’s a fucking ghost, Dean, not Lucifer! I can handle it.” You run a hand through your hair, not noticing how Dean’s eyes darken a little bit at the movement, his eyes following the slope of your neck as you hastily shove your hair behind your ears.

“I’m sorry, okay? Jesus Christ, kid. We just wanted to help.”

Your glare fades a bit because you have a huge crush on him and are not immune to the way his entire face softens when he’s worried. You sigh. “I appreciate the help and the concern. I just wish you could trust me to get this kind of easy shit taken care of.”

He frowns, taking a step forward. “You think I think you’re not qualified?” He looks incredulous.

You flap your arms against your sides in frustration. What else are you supposed to think when Sam and Dean just show up in almost every town you’ve been to in the last month?

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He looks at you again, and you’re kind of taken aback at the vulnerable look in his eyes, the way his chest seems to be almost heaving as he struggles to get his words out. “I’m not trying to– we’re not trying to steal hunts from you. I’m not trying to make you feel inadequate… Christ, you’re one of the best damn hunters we know.”

“Then why do you have to keep showing up and taking over? You bowled over me in that witness interview and you practically handcuffed me to the car to get me to stay outside. If I’m so great, then what the fuck is the problem?”

His anger boils over and he takes three quick strides towards you, almost backing you into the wall. “God dammit, kid, I didn’t think I had to spell this out for you, but I guess I do.”

Your heart begins to pound.

“I’m trying not to keep tabs on you, okay, but I’m so fuckin’ worried about you all the time I can’t stand it.” Dean’s voice is hoarse. “Every time you leave for awhile I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.” He takes a step even closer. “If I’m reading this all wrong, say the word and I’ll be gone before you can blink. But– I know I can’t be imagining the way it feels when you fucking look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You ask, and if you’re a little breathless in the wake of his confession, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Like you know what I look like with my clothes off, sweetheart.” He growls.

“Dean–” You start, but then stop yourself, because what the hell are you supposed to say to that? He’s not wrong. You’re well aware of the eye-fucking, as Sam calls it. You can’t help it though – has Dean seen himself? Sometimes you’re amazed that he can’t see how appealing he is, inside and out.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me to stop.” His voice is a low rumble in your ear.

“You’re not wrong. You’re not, Dean, you’re–” you start to argue, but he cuts you off by pushing you further against the wall, his mouth sealing over yours in a bruising kiss.

His mouth moves over yours passionately, your mouth falling open under his in a gasp. He groans, his tongue tangling with yours, turning the kiss absolutely filthy in a matter of seconds.

“God, kid–” he gasps as he pulls away from you to catch his breath, his hands moving all over your body like they can’t decide where to linger.

You feel the same way– one of your hands sliding up to scratch through his hair while the other wraps around his waist, his skin hot through the thin material of his shirt.

“I know, I know–” you mutter, words failing you. He hitches one of your legs up around his waist, and when he rocks into you, both of you groan aloud, the sound tugging right at where you’re already hot and aching for him.

“Baby, we have to slow down.” He rasps, pulling away slightly. His kisses don’t stop, though– they trail to your jaw and linger on your neck, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you.

“Can’t slow down if you keep that up.” You mutter.

He chuckles, a slow, sexy sound. He kisses you one more time, a lingering kiss that you feel all the way to your toes. “You know,” he says when he pulls away, “I don’t mean to suffocate you. I just don’t know how to let you out of my sight when history says everyone I care about gets hurt at one point or another.”

You smile softly at him. “Dean, things aren’t always going to be perfect. I’m being as careful as I can be. And you’re one to talk– you’re always rushing headfirst into the next crazy plan.”

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m trying to work on that. And I know you’re being careful. Like I said, I don’t do this, like, at all. I just want– I just want you to be around. That’s all.”

“We can figure it out. I mean, if you want to.”

His smile goes shy, his eyes shining as they meet yours. “That’s what I want. God knows I haven’t had a good thing to myself in years.”

Dean stays with you that night, insisting you take the side of the bed away from the door, his gun under his pillow and his arm providing a pillow for you as you manage, finally, to fall asleep.

When you wake up, it’s to his brilliant green eyes crinkling around the edges as he smiles at you, his hair mussed from sleep. “Ugh,” you groan. “Don’t look at me.”

He grins wolfishly at you. “Not a chance, kid. In fact, I plan on looking at you for a good portion of today.”

“God. I knew deep down you were a cheeseball.

He grins. “Shut up.”


End file.
